


Rust of the Soul

by project_icarus



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Sex, F/M, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_icarus/pseuds/project_icarus
Summary: His fingers trace mindless circles down her back. “That was… enjoyable for you as well, siha?”She laughs into his chest, the puff of her breath warm against him. “You have to ask?”“It’s been a long time since my body has wanted for anything, longer still since I have listened to those desires. I was afraid I might be, as you humans say, rusty.”
Relationships: Thane Krios/Female Shepard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132





	Rust of the Soul

Whether it’s just his drell nature, or something more personally maudlin, Thane spends so much time in solipsism that even with his perfect memory he forgets sometimes to live in the moment. To be alive with another person. He will not make that mistake tonight, not when his siha needs him. For however afraid he might be, she’s scared too, and he’d be a poor excuse for a man if he didn’t do his level best to be strong for her.

He gathers her up in his arms, pulling her close, the strange swell of her breasts pressing tight against him, and he kisses her hard, his tongue swiping deep into her mouth. A different experience to be sure, but warm and wet and welcoming all the same. With one hand he holds her hip, the other tangling in her hair, and her fingers clench around the lapels of his jacket.

She sighs, a pleased little sound that stirs something long slumbering within him. Want. He clutches her tighter, his movements frantic, and she tries to calm him with her kisses.

Her shape is foreign to him, and it’s alien in so many ways to be holding a human with care instead of deadly intent—ten different ways to snap her neck, but can he make her feel good? Safe? Protected? Powerful desire for her courses through his misgivings, surprising him. But how could anyone not be enamoured with her? Arashu herself could not be indifferent before Shepard.

She catches her breath, her lips pursed in a demure smile. “Are you sure you’ve never kissed a human before?” Her voice is breathy, aroused.

“I’d have assumed kissing drell to be much the same as many other species. Well, perhaps not the turians.”

“Or the krogan,” she adds, grinning. Her cheeks flush the most delicate pink. “You’re so… different to what I’m used to. I like it a lot.”

He nods, full of pride. “The texture of your tongue is not at all how I imagined it.”

Her eyes smoulder. She circles her arms around his neck, her fingers stroking the back of his head as she looks up at him through her long eyelashes. “You imagined it, huh?”

He’s captive under her heated gaze. His hands slide down to her waist, his fingers curling into the dip there and holding her fast. “Oh, yes. I imagined it.”

She swallows, and he follows her throat moving with his eyes. “I did, too.”

He’s breathing heavier now, and they’ve barely begun. She’s unlike any other woman in the galaxy, and even if she’s the wrong shape, or they don’t fit together like nature intended, there’s no one else he’d rather be vulnerable and unsure with. He wants her. Kalahira preserve him, they go to their doom this night, and he wants her.

And it’s not just the idea of her hot, slick mouth on him that’s kept him awake some nights, but the wonderment of what she looks like beneath her clothes. Humans tend to wear lightweight compression suits underneath their armour and fatigues, to keep their softer parts compact and secure in varying gravity environments, so even in her tight Cerberus uniform, the true shape of her feminine curves is still a mystery.

Maddening, but solvable.

He pushes her shirt up, exposing the second-skin of her suit, and his fingertips trace ticklish lines across her stomach, the muscles beneath quivering at his touch, dancing away like petals on the wind.

She giggles— _his siha giggles—_ and she pulls away from his kiss and bites her lip, eyelashes fluttering.

The corner of his mouth quirks, his eyes glittering, teasing. “I didn’t know you could make that sound, siha.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re the one tickling. Are drell even ticklish?”

He holds her arms, his thumbs stroking her skin in what he hopes are soothing circles. Minute, fine hairs invisible to his eyes prickle under his attentions, distracting him. “No, our scales are too tough.”

She raises a defiant eyebrow. “They don’t feel so tough to me.” She smooths her hand over his chest, her touch feather light. “I bet I could make you show me all the sounds drell can make.”

Please, yes, he wants her to. He tugs her in, sealing his mouth over hers again and kissing her with all the heat he can muster. Her lips are still strange against his, her tongue unfamiliar to his mouth, but he burns for her, hotter and brighter. He wants to learn all there is to know about her body, wants to commit every purposeful touch and soft caress to memory. He will relive this. He will lie with her every night, even when there are lightyears between them.

He must finish what he started. He peels away her Cerberus fatigues from her body, and she helps him with eagerness, wiggling her hips until her pants pool around her booted ankles. He holds her steady as she kicks out of her clothes and boots.

He drags down the zipper of her undersuit with purposeful fingers, his eyes fixed on the soft skin appearing beneath her collarbone. He wants to taste it. Each jut of the zipper’s teeth resounds deep in him like an earthquake, but he doesn’t get as far as he wants to before she stops him.

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and her deft hands attack his coat and vest, stripping them from his body and discarding them to the cabin floor. He’s wiry and lean, attractive qualities in his people, but what if she prefers someone more built and impressive? Someone like Jacob?

“Damn, Thane.” Her hands splay across his chest, her eyes hungry as they take in the dappled shades of green between her fingers. Her voice dips to that quiet sultriness that always catches him off guard. “You’re gorgeous. Even without the sexy black getup.”

Despite himself, he laughs, surprised again. “Sexy? I wear that for freedom of movement, and to blend into the shadows.” For his bravado, relief floods him. He should remember that she chose him.

“All I’ll say is that I’ve been plenty distracted on missions with you.” One of her fingers traces the edge of the frills at his throat, making him shiver.

The zipper of her suit lies against her chest, between her breasts, and he can almost, _almost,_ imagine how they would feel in his hands, but for yet another layer of clothing. “I’ve been distracted too, siha.”

He can take no more of this playfulness. He grips her zipper again, and this time draws it all the way down in one sharp motion. The V of the parted fabric has him spellbound. She shrugs out of the suit, rolling it down her legs and stepping out of it altogether. She stands there, naked as he’s ever seen her, still clad in dark, nondescript underclothes.

The self-consciousness on her face is the most alien of all; his brave, beautiful siha bashful? No.

He falls on his knees before her, slides his hands up her thighs and presses a kiss to the soft skin just above the band of her underwear. “I have never been more in awe.”

She laughs, gazing down at him with fondness in her eyes. “All right, all right. You don’t have to be so dramatic.” She captures his hands in her own and tugs until he stands again. “Come to bed with me.”

“Gladly.” He follows her down onto the firm mattress, need pulsing through him heavier now. This is it. They will be one soon.

She lies on her back and reaches out for him, and he goes to her, cradling her in his arms and fitting himself into her curves. He kisses her, soft at first, and then hard, and if she can’t tell how aroused he is from the urgent jutting of his erection into her hip, she’ll know from the insistent press of his tongue against hers.

She moans and shifts beneath him, grinding her pelvis into his own, and he rolls his hips with her, pleasure glittering behind his eyelids. The sounds she makes! It’s a privilege to hear them.

“Thane,” she murmurs, and he’s never loved hearing his name like he does in this moment. “We don’t have a lot of time here, and I refuse to die tomorrow without knowing what you feel like inside of me.”

“Siha…” What to say to that? “I feel the same.” His heart beats only for her now, and the ardour she inspires in him is unmatched. Does she not know what she does to him?

Like a switch has flipped, their languid movements pick up some urgency. She sits up, crossing her arms and bringing her brassiere up over her head, casting it off to forget about on the floor. He pinches the waistband of her underwear between his fingers and pulls it down, and she lifts her hips from the mattress to aid him, kicking the offending garment off the bed.

His eyes don’t know where to focus first, nor do his hands, and maybe it shows on his face, because she takes his hands in hers and guides him up to her breasts. She applies a gentle pressure, and he takes the lead from there, squeezing the soft pillows of flesh, weighing them in his palms.

Her hands fall to the sheets, and she closes her eyes, humming her appreciation. “That feels nice.”

“You’ll have to direct me, siha. Tell me where you need me.” His thumbs find the pebbled nubs of her nipples, and he rolls them, experimental, to see if she likes it.

Judging by how her mouth hangs open as she pants, she does. “You don’t seem to need much direction.”

“Just tell me if I do something unpleasant.”

She smiles. “Deal.”

He ducks his head and swipes his tongue over one of her nipples. She gasps, but before he can pull away and apologise, she wraps her hand around his head and pushes him back down.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers.

He goes to work like a man possessed, swirling his tongue in circles over the tight peak. Spurred on by her quiet little moans, he wraps his lips around the nub and sucks. She clutches at his head frills, arching her back and pressing her chest to his mouth, and he sucks harder.

“Fuck.” She grabs his hand, the one still cupping and tweaking her other breast, and shoves it down between her legs. “I need you.”

“Of course.” He turns his attention to her lower body, struck by a delicious wave of anticipation, but also some perplexity. He’s almost forty years old, he’s been married—even a father, for Arashu’s sake—he’d thought his years of awkward fumbling were far behind him. And yet, as he stares at the triangular patch of dark hair between her thighs, for a moment he’s every bit the clumsy teenager he once was.

Her hand comes to cup his cheek, and she looks up at him with soft eyes. “Are you okay?”

He blinks, then smiles for her. “I’m with you. How could I not be?”

“You need a little more _direction_?” She grins, and her legs fall open.

He slides gentle fingers over the seam of her, and they come away covered in her slick. His cock, almost forgotten until now, surges against his tight trousers. His blood throbs with want for her. He explores her deeper, his fingers gliding over her sex with ease, and she opens her legs wider for him, sighing.

“There,” she says, when he rubs a certain place just so. “Right there.”

“Here?” There’s a little bump beneath his fingers that makes her squirm when he traces over it. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” She rolls her hips with his hand for a few breaths, before huffing in frustration. “I need you to fuck me, Thane.”

He swallows, heat thrumming through his veins. “Are you ready? You don’t need any… preparation?”

She pulls a face. “You’re right. And clinical.” She grabs him by the wrist and forces his hand lower. “Put your fingers inside. Gently. I don’t know how much Cerberus rebuilt.”

He doesn’t know what she means by that last remark, but he knows how to be gentle, and he sinks his index finger into her depths. She’s silky inside, and hot, and tight, and he wants nothing more than to push his neglected cock up into her gorgeous cunt. If it will fit, she’s much tighter than he’s accustomed to.

He swaps his index finger for his fused ones, opening her up wider, pumping them into her at the urging of her hips. She lies still under his ministrations for all of a couple seconds, before shoving him away.

“Siha? Did I do something wr—”

She silences him with her tongue in his mouth, and then her hands peel away his pants and her fingers wrap around his cock. She grins at him then, surprise in her eyes. “You make your own lubrication, huh?”

“I—yes.” It’s hard to think when she tightens her fist around him, stroking him hard and fast. “I thought humans did, too.”

“Only the females.” She’s watching his face, beyond pleased with herself as pleasure makes itself known on his features. “Mother Nature’s kind of a bitch like that.”

“Oh.” He’s not sure if he’s replying to her comment, or moaning at the little flick of the wrist she just employed.

“Take these off,” she says, snapping the band of his underclothes, and she releases his cock and lies back against the pillows again.

He complies as fast as he can, stripping himself bare before her and then settling between her spread thighs, one hand supporting himself by her head, the other aligning his cock with her cunt.

He pauses, one last quiet moment before he allows his self-restraint to snap. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Her sharp eyes bore into him, and she wraps her legs around his middle. “I swear to god, if you don’t—”

“Patience is a virtue even among my people, Shepard.” He smirks at her pouty face— _Commander Shepard pouting_ —and pushes his hips forwards, nudging the pointed tip of his engorged cock into her slickness. “Gods, siha…” He keeps pushing until their hips lie flush together, and he leans his weight on his hands, amazed at how she takes all of him. “You feel so—”

“So do you.” She groans, her hands scrabbling for purchase before finding it on his forearms. “Fuck.”

She’s sublime inside, and the snug way she accommodates his length is unlike anything he’s ever felt. It takes more effort than he’ll admit to not embarrass himself and end things before they begin.

He rolls his hips, drawing his cock out and forcing it back in to test his mettle. His chest rumbles with pleasure, but he’s in no danger of spilling too soon, so he thrusts again and again, starting up a languorous rhythm.

“ _Oh_.” Her voice is soft and bedroom-sweet, and she clenches her thighs around his waist. Her eyes open and meet his. “I love you, Thane.”

Her confession fills him with warmth and comfort, like sinking into a hot bath, and he lowers himself to his elbows, speaking right into her ear. “I love you as well, siha. I am yours eternally.”

She turns her head to kiss him, and somewhere along the way their kisses turn from sweet nothings into a wet mimicry of the joining of their bodies further south.

His hips have a mind of their own, picking up speed and force without his notice. She’s moaning into his mouth, her arms around his neck and her nails scratching lines down his back, so she must not mind. He buries his face in the hollow of her throat, and before he knows what he’s doing, he sinks his teeth into the skin over her jugular.

“Fuck!” She holds him there with a hand on the back of his neck, and her insides quiver around his cock in the most divine and disconcerting way.

He lets up with his teeth, soothing her raw skin with his tongue and then pressing a kiss there in apology. He keeps fucking into her, his rhythm relentless now he knows she can take it, and he disentangles himself from her iron grip to plant both fists on either side of her head for leverage.

He’s stronger than any human male. His muscles are denser. How much punishment can her little cunt take? Perhaps this is not the night to find out.

She snakes a hand down between them, pawing at the little pleasure button she’d shown him earlier. Her face contorts almost in consternation, but the moans that spill from her lips tell a more accurate story.

“I’m going to come.” Her voice is higher than he’s ever heard it, and her fingers are feverish in their movements right above where he joins to her.

He groans, not letting his hips falter, the coiled tension in his abdomen threatening to spring loose at any moment. “Come for me, siha. I’ve got you.”

She whines, her hips juddering in an unsteady rhythm to meet him in his thrusts, her cunt spasming around him, enough to send him spiralling over the edge.

“Thane, I’m coming!” she cries out loud enough for him to hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

“Shepard.” He grunts, grinding his cock into her one last time, spending himself inside of her with great shuddering breaths.

She holds him close, panting into his ear, and he tilts his face to find her lips with his. His heart hammers away beneath his breast, but in the few quiet moments that follow, tongues entwined, they start to come down together.

He rolls off her, lying beside her in the bed. She turns to him, fitting herself to his side, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

His fingers trace mindless circles down her back. “That was… enjoyable for you as well, siha?”

She laughs into his chest, the puff of her breath warm against him. “You have to ask?”

“It’s been a long time since my body has wanted for anything, longer still since I have listened to those desires. I was afraid I might be, as you humans say, rusty.”

She leans up on an elbow, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. “Definitely not. Thane, you were incredible.”

He grins. “Not as incredible as you.” His face grows concerned. “Did my poison affect you?”

“No, I don’t think so. Mordin said there might be hallucinations, I feel kind of let down, actually.”

“It’s very mild. You might even be immune.”

She cuddles back into his chest, and then winces.

“What is it, siha?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She fidgets against him. “Damn it, I need to see Mordin about a rash.”


End file.
